Take a Chance On Me
by Carolinna
Summary: Sherlock makes himself at home in Molly's flat after the events at Sherrinford, Molly's definitely not pleased. "I'm in need of your room tonight. Hope you can make yourself comfortable in the guest room," Sherlock said, preparing himself a cup of tea. "No." "Excuse me?" Sherlock dropped the cup in his hands and looked at her, confusion plain on his face.
1. I

**Take a Chance On Me**

**.**

**.**

First of all, I want to thank vermofftiss for her amazing help and for being the best beta, I couldn't have done this without you 3

The title for this story comes from the ABBA song Take a Chance On Me, though this is not a songfic!

* * *

Molly hung up after the line went dead. She couldn't quite understand what had just happened. She was very confused, but mostly, numb. This wasn't the first time Sherlock had hurt her feelings, but this time was so different. He was a fucking prick, that was an undeniable truth, but she still loved him; it wasn't a simple crush like before or like the ones she had back on her high school days, this was capital letters L-O-V-E.

She took a sip from her tea, which was getting cold but still tasted somewhat good, and sat on the sofa, trying to process everything that had happened. Instead she turned on the telly hoping to find something to distract her.

Before that horrible phone call Molly wasn't having a fantastic day, and everything went downhill fast after the call. She thought that maybe she had gone a little bit too far with making Sherlock say those words, but she told herself that she had to do it to feel less humiliated and it was her attempt to even the odds between her and the detective. And if someone asked her, she would deny it, but… she really wanted to hear those words from Sherlock's lips.

It was past midnight when she heard clattering coming from the kitchen, and Molly was one-hundred percent sure who was responsible for that. She jumped out of bed, put on her dressing gown and opened the door of her bedroom only to find Sherlock putting the kettle on.

"Sherlock, may I ask you what you are doing in my flat at the middle of the night?" Molly questioned the man in front of her while crossing her arms.

"Molly, what kind of question is that? I've been in your flat at this precise hour many times. Do I have to remind you how I used your flat as a bolt hole? And by the way, I'm in need of your room tonight. 221B was bombed. Hope you can make yourself comfortable in the guest room," Sherlock said, preparing himself a cup of tea.

The audacity of this man, Molly thought…

"No."

"Excuse me?" Sherlock dropped the cup in his hands and looked at her, confusion plain on his face.

"No, Sherlock. I don't need you to remind me of that, thank you very much, and you can't stay in my room."

"I've stayed at other times and now I really need it."

"But that was… _before_.'' She almost choked on that last word.

"Before what, Molly? The phone call we had earlier? Are you talking about that? Don't be ridiculous."

_Ridiculous?_

This man was absolutely infuriating, how could he be so calm while talking about this? Molly wanted to punch his stupid face. She was starting to feel even more angry at him due to the recent events and she was not in the mood for his games.

"Get out, Sherlock. Get the fuck out!" Molly raised her voice as she moved fast toward the entrance of her flat to open the door. The detective wasn't moving. "Come on, don't make me phone Mycroft to get you out." She opened the door and made a gesture to Sherlock, inviting him to leave. He walked slowly toward her and stopped at the doorway.

"I am sorry, Molly. Don't make me leave, I'm here to talk." He looked at her, his eyes almost begging for whatever he was trying to do, but Molly wasn't falling for it. She pushed him a little so he would stop blocking the door and closed it right on his face.

"Molly come on! Let me in, I just want to talk. I can stay here all night you know, knocking on your door every ten seconds until you let me in." He could just open the door with the key Molly had gave him, but he didn't want to make things worse.

Sherlock started knocking, getting louder knock after knock. He was going to wake up her neighbours, and she was hoping they'd call the police on him.

She really wanted to lock herself in her room and cry herself to sleep. Instead, she sat against the door. The knocking had stopped, and Sherlock had done the same as her on the other side, only a door separating them.

"Why, Sherlock? Why did you have to humiliate me like that? We were on good terms before that call, being Rosie's godparents, and I really tried to help you after Mary's death… You seem to forget that she was my friend too and I was hurting as well, but still… I was there for you, always, Sherlock."

"Molly…"

"Please, let me speak. I've never wanted anything in return from you, just friendship or even decent treatment." She paused and swallowed, trying to hold back the tears. She wasn't in front of Sherlock, but he would notice right away if he heard her crying…

"But what do I get? A desperate phone call from you, making me admit something that I've kept so deep inside me for my own damn reasons. Something that I wasn't near ready to say out loud, a confession that would leave me totally vulnerable to you… after everything we've been through. And I may be a bloody idiot to think that I deserved more coming from you than this sick game, Sherlock. Everything but all of this mess." Molly couldn't hold back her tears anymore; she had been fooled many times, but never like this.

Sherlock was speechless. Eurus was right: emotional context was destroying him and the woman on the other side of the door. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. He had fought this kind of emotion effortlessly his entire life. Why was it so difficult this time? He could just leave the building and disappear from Molly's life, but he couldn't find the strength to do so and he didn't want to leave. Molly was his friend. So, he spoke.

"That was never my intention, Molly. I wasn't trying to humiliate you, not today or ever. I've already told you how much you mean to me, how much I trust you." He stood up and knocked the door very softly. "Please, Molly… That's why I'm here, to talk and explain everything. Let me in."

She got up from the floor and unlocked the door, feeling dizzy as she looked at Sherlock's face.

"Well, you're already here so you'd better start talking." Molly walked to the sitting room, with Sherlock following and sitting next to her.

Sherlock explained... everything. Everything that had happened with her sister Eurus, how she had toyed with him and John and Mycroft, her bloody mind games, the call. Molly never imagined that Sherlock had a sister. What didn't surprise her was that a Holmes had orchestrated the whole thing.

"I was so worried, Molly. I watched you as you were ignoring my call and I… Oh, for God's sake!" He got up from the sofa and started searching for something all over her flat. After a minute, he found a little camera hidden in a bookshelf and ripped it from its place, crushing it underfoot. He did the same with the other four he found.

_Oh, that's marvellous, my flat has been bugged! _Molly thought.

She couldn't believe how her privacy had been totally invaded. She was somehow glad that there weren't any cameras on her bedroom. That would've been plain embarrassing.

"I am… so sorry, Molly. I would've never wanted to put you in a situation like that. She said your flat was going to explode if I didn't get you to say… _those words_. In the end she was lying and you were never in real danger, but I was scared. I didn't want to lose you. Molly, I…I…" He paused, taking a breath. "I am sorry. Forgive me. For the call and everything. I know I haven't been the kindest to you." He grabbed her hands in an effort to comfort her, somehow.

As Sherlock took her hands, she saw the cuts and gashes on his own, and wondered how he'd hurt himself. Why he'd hurt himself.

"You were trying to save my life and I thank you for that. You did what you had to do, I understand now, but I need time, Sherlock. I've been hurt so many times and I haven't had enough time to heal."

He was well aware that he had hurt Molly Hooper a dozen times, but he never expected that after explaining everything he wouldn't immediately obtain her forgiveness. That was new. But how could she forgive him so easily this time?

He said he was sorry, and he really was.

He just wanted to make things right.

"_Well, little brother… you can't always get what you want," _Mycroft whispered in his mind. Sherlock shook his head, trying to get rid of the murmurs.

"Molly, I…"

He tried to speak but the pathologist didn't let him.

"Don't get me wrong, Sherlock. I'm not saying that I won't ever forgive you or that I'm going to resent you for the rest of my life. Certainly I will, at some point. Perhaps not right at this moment but maybe tomorrow or the next week…. Who knows?" Tears were starting to make their way out, but Molly tried to put on a strong façade. "I'm just sorry if I made things even more complicated. I'm sure you weren't having the time of your life either and I know you didn't mean those words, anyway."

Sherlock stayed quiet, lost in his thoughts. He wasn't going to discuss the existence of certain feelings or the words he had to say in order to save the woman in front of him. He'd never regret saving Molly Hooper's life, never. What he regretted was how lost he had gotten in emotion and sentiment, to the point of making it so easy for others to find ways to get to him. He was sure that he had never given any hints of being emotionally involved with Molly, because he _wasn't_.

Well, that was what he told himself. Eurus had successfully used her as a pressure point.

"I'm tired, Sherlock. I'm going to bed." It was past 3 AM and she needed to sleep. "You can stay if you want," she offered, "but you'll be taking the guest room or the sofa. It's your choice." Molly wasn't really looking forward to a sleepover with Sherlock, but 221B _had _been bombed and maybe he had nowhere else to go.

He was conflicted on what to do, his brain and feelings getting in the way of his decision-making processes. "Thanks for the offer Molly, but I've caused too much trouble for you these last twelve hours. I'd better get going." He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and made his way to the front door. "See you soon, Molly Hooper."

And with that, he closed the door and left.

It was the last time Molly saw Sherlock for more than a month.

* * *

Molly missed Sherlock, of course, but she really appreciated the space to think about all of the things that had happened and to put her emotions in order. She knew for sure that the detective was okay. She texted John when she had not heard anything from him after two weeks and asked him to let her know if anything went south.

She had two possible theories due to the lack of Sherlock in her life lately: one, he was really giving her time and space to heal; two, he had decided to erase her from his life and had been avoiding her.

She had a feeling that it was the first option. She _hoped_ it was. She told herself that Sherlock wouldn't disappear from her life that easily. After all, they were friends. But if for some reason the second theory was the correct one, she was determined to go on with her life. It wouldn't be her first heartbreak anyway.

_The show must go on_, she repeated to herself.

* * *

_You say it, go on. You say it first. Say it. Say it like you mean it._

_I-I… I love you. I love you._

Those three little words haunted Sherlock since the day of the call. They had made their way all through his mind to the very centre of everything.

He couldn't shake them off. He dreamt of them.

His traitorous brain played the moment he came clean to Molly Hooper in a never-ending loop.

_Came clean?_ He wasn't confessing anything, he did what he had to do to save his… friend.

Sherlock wanted to scream. he was in agony. This was by far the hardest of his cases: the sorting of his emotions towards certain pathologist.

_Stop being ridiculous, _he told himself._ There's nothing to sort!_ He only had a deep sense of gratitude towards her due to all of her unconditional help.

Sherlock groaned in frustration, if there was nothing else than gratitude… why did he felt like his chest was on fire every time he saw or thought of Molly?

He had sealed those feelings away in the deepest and farthest place of his mind a long time ago. He didn't have time for simple human emotions. he was so much more than just a person driven by sentiment…. Wasn't he?

He jumped out of his wrecked chair.

221B was still a mess after the bombing and the renovations were to start tomorrow, but he needed space to think and John's flat was way too noisy for his brainstorming session. He adored his little goddaughter, but he needed quiet. And Mycroft's house was never an option. He really missed one of his favourite boltholes. Molly's flat wasn't very far from Baker Street. It was always quiet and smelled nice… just like her.

His bombed flat would do.

He needed to solve the chaos inside his head. He walked around the place, being careful to not stumble in the debris.

Since the last time he had seen Molly, two weeks and 16 hours had passed.

Why in the bloody hell he had been counting the time? He was _fine._

He was getting more anxious with every minute passing. He needed to see her.

Anxious? He. Was. _Okay. _He repeated to himself has he clenched his fists… _I don't need Molly, I don't need Molly Hooper._

He closed his eyes and pictured her face. A familiar pair of brown eyes, her tiny nose, those delicate lips… He had dreamt of them for a while now….

No! He had not dreamt of them; he was just acquainted with her face. For deduction purposes.

"You need to stop this, Sherlock. There's no use in playing dumb now. You're in too deep."

The detective opened his eyes to find his brother standing in front of him, a smug smile painting his face.

"Just admit it. You love the pathologist. There's nothing to be ashamed of, little brother. Molly Hooper is a remarkable woman. Very smart; one of the best of her field, if not the best; two PhDs and a published researcher. She's incredibly kind and has helped you many times, and as surprising as it is, she actually loves you."

"It'd be too dangerous. She would be a target."

"So, you're admitting it. A good start. Don't be silly, Sherlock. She isn't a defenceless little girl. Still, I can guarantee protection for her, you know that. She wouldn't even notice. You need only ask. I'd be happy to add more favours to your bill."

"Mmm, sounds interesting. I guess I could solve another bunch of dull cases coming from the government in order to return the favour."

For God's sake, he was starting to flirt with the idea! He needed to stop.

"Mummy would be delighted to have her as the mother of her grandchildren."

"Oh, do shut up and stay out of this, Mycroft! I need to think.'' He huffed and looked the other way.

"I remind you that we are in your head, brother mine. You're hearing me because you desperately need my voice of wisdom."

"Wisdom my arse. Goodbye."

And Mycroft was gone.

He was trying to regain himself when a soft voice echoed through his mind.

"Hello, Sherlock, were you looking for me?" Molly appeared, walking at a slow pace towards him, wearing that bright rainbow jumper. He wasn't at Baker Street anymore. He was at the lab in St Barts, her flat, everywhere he associated with her, all at once.

How could a piece of clothing mean so much? She wore it during the biggest shifts in their relationship. When he had just returned from the dead. The day of the call…

"Hello, Molly…. Yes, yes I was looking for you."

"I'm here now, Sherlock. Is there anything you need to tell me?" She was facing him with a soft smile, waiting patiently.

"Yes, there's something I want to tell you, though... I don't know how. I've already said it to you, but I've told myself that it was a lie to save you, and now I have realized that I wasn't lying. It's just that I've been too stubborn to see it clearly. I see it now."

"Well, if it's true, just say it anyway." She stared right at him, her brown eyes encouraging him.

"I... love you. I love you, Molly Hooper."

He opened his eyes, back at his destroyed flat in Baker Street, alone.

However, things felt different now.

He had fallen for Molly Hooper.

He loved her… but he wasn't going to tell her.

At least not right now.

* * *

"You have to give her space, Sherlock. She needs and deserves it," John said in a low voice. He carried Rosie to her nursery, having finally convinced her to fall asleep. He tucked his daughter into her crib and walked back to the sitting room. "After all you've put her through, let her process everything that happened."

"But it has been more than two weeks already. It's more than enough time!" Sherlock complained.

"Look, Sherlock. That phone call was devastating. When we were trying to figure out who the coffin was for, I'd have never imagined that your sister would use Molly for her games. She's been nothing but an excellent friend to all of us and the greatest of godmothers for Rosie. After what happened with Mary, she saved Rosie and me. Molly has been so busy being there and caring for everyone. But who takes care of her, Sherlock?"

"I love her," Sherlock blurted out.

"Come again?" John blinked, three times to be precise.

"I, Sherlock Holmes, love Molly Hooper. It's not that difficult to understand, John".

"Well, since when? Is it real, no games or lies? Because I swear to you, Sherlock, if this is one of your games, I will punch you so hard in the face in the name of Molly you'll be concave."

"Yes, John, I'm more than sure it's real. I've been feeling like this since I came back to London. It's just that I didn't realize what I was feeling at the moment and hoped it would… go away. At first, I thought that I was extremely grateful for her help with faking my death, and then her stupid fiancé came to the picture…. Nonetheless, it has been awhile since I came back and it has gotten stronger. I've tried so hard to ignore this… _feeling_," he said while gesturing around his chest. "It was only after the games at Sherrinford and a long session in my mind palace in 221B, trying to solve the most difficult of cases during my career… my feelings toward Molly Hooper… that I discovered I don't want to ignore it anymore." He rubbed his temples as he took a deep breath. "You can write about that in your blog. It would be a great comeback: _The Lovelorn Detective_."

"You love, truly love her? In a romantic way? I just want to make sure I'm getting what you're saying."

"Yes, John, I'm romantically interested in Molly Hooper. I want to be with her, have dinner with her, kiss her and _so _much more."

John looked… amused. What was so amusing about this? Sherlock frowned.

"Excuse me? Did you hear what I've just said?"

"Of course I heard you, you idiot! I'm just surprised. Who would've thought, Sherlock Holmes in love!" John laughed and got up from the sofa, walking to the kitchen to make some tea. "When are you going to tell her? I still think you should give her space, but you need to tell her. The hardest part is knowing if she loves you back and we already _do_ know that!"

John was delighted with Sherlock's confession. He knew very well that his best friend was capable of love on his own way. He loved his family, and he had shown on several occasions that love extended to himself, Mary and Rosie, but this was new. Sherlock Holmes was_ in_ love with Molly Hooper, and nobody saw it coming.

_Mary would have seen it._

"I don't know if I'm ever going to tell her," Sherlock admitted, looking at his hands.

"What? Why? But you love her." John stopped preparing tea and made his way back to Sherlock.

"I would put her at risk, John. Just remember Eurus. I don't even know how she knew Molly meant so much to me as to use her against me. Imagine all the things that could happen if Molly and I actually were together. And what if I'm terrible in a relationship and end up hurting her more? I can't do that to her, John, I just can't. I don't think I deserve Molly."

John could tell that his friend was on edge, trying to decide whether to follow his heart or brains. How often had he been there?

"Sherlock, I want you to listen to what I'm going to say very closely, and then you can make up your mind if you tell Molly about your feelings or not. If someone comes up to me and tells me that I can live what I had with Mary all over again but with the same ending… _I would accept without a second thought."_

Every moment that we shared together makes me want to keep going on. Every smile, every word that came out of her mouth, every single memory of the time I got to share with her gives me the strength to wake up every morning and keep fighting, for myself and the wonderful little girl that's sleeping upstairs."

John's eyes were starting to fill with tears and Sherlock was trying to process what his friend was telling him.

"It hurts me deeply to my core that I won't be able to create new moments with her, but what I'm trying to say is that I knew what it was like to love and be loved by Mary. I won't be up at night wondering what could have happened between us, because I lived that, and that's what I want you to understand, Sherlock." John paused and looked Sherlock right at his eyes. "I understand why you're afraid, but you're just seeing one side of the coin. What if you tell Molly about your feelings and you get to live a long happy life with her by your side? But what if you don't tell her and she gets engaged again to some random bloke and gets married for good? Or what if something worse happens to her? How would you feel about that? Think of all the wasted moments that you could've created with her."

We already had this kind of conversation, a couple of weeks ago when you got that text from The Woman, and I told you to go for it. I may have got the wrong person, but the message stays the same. Just think about it, Sherlock."

Sherlock was stunned into silence, again. John was right; he always considered himself the smart one of the duo, but now he was beginning to doubt that.

"I don't know what to say… but you're absolutely right. I just want things to work out and make Molly happy for once in my life."

"You may be an arse sometimes, but you're a great man, Sherlock. The best I've ever met. And Molly knows that. Just give her time. And you are worthy of love, don't ever doubt that. If it helps, she texted me today asking about you. She wanted to know if you were okay." John shrugged.

"Well, at least she's feeling my absence too." Sherlock was starting to feel like an adolescent boy with this first crush.

The sound of Rosie's whining stole their attention and quickly turned into a loud cry for her dad. John was already halfway to the nursery to take care of her by the time it reached a shriek.

"Aaaand, that's my cue to leave. I'll be back later. Thank you John, you really helped me today." Sherlock said goodbye to his best friend and her crying goddaughter.

* * *

Deep down, Molly knew that Sherlock wasn't completely lying. Something inside was telling her to keep her hopes up, but she was tired, and she wasn't just going to sit on a bench and wait for the great Sherlock Holmes. By the time that man made up his mind they would be the ones on a morgue slab.

Her shift had been impressively quiet; just an autopsy from an old lady who died of a stroke, and the lab had been a little boring without Sherlock's presence. He made her days a little bit more interesting with all of his experiments, but she loved her job and she wasn't going to let him ruin that for her.

Suddenly, her phone chimed.

_**Hello… S**_

Molly huffed, irritated by his text message. A freaking "hello" like he didn't disappear for almost two months and he just pops up back with a bloody text. She closed the message and locked her phone.

_**Molly, I know you're ignoring me. You left me on read. S**_

_This man_, Molly thought as she rolled her eyes. She grabbed her phone and typed.

_**That's the whole idea of leaving you on read, Sherlock.**_

_**I know I've been missing these last couple days. S**_

Couple days? He disappeared for more than a month.

_**Well… three weeks. S**_

Oh?

_**Okay… a little bit more than a month. S**_

_**Please respond. S**_

She needed to answer, or he was going to keep spamming her with texts.

_**What do you need, Sherlock? I don't have many body parts for you to analyse.**_

_**I don't need anything from the lab, Molly. I want to talk with you. In person. S**_

_**I'm really busy right now… With work.**_

_**I know your shift has been quiet, you can thank me for that. S**_

Of course Sherlock had something to do with her day at work being strangely calm. She wondered if everything was okay with him.

He texted her again…

_**I miss you, Molly.**_

And she missed him too… _Oh, fuck it_, she thought, and typed.

_**Okay, let's meet. My shift's over in 2 hours.**_

_**You know where to find me. S**_

_**You know where to find me too.**_

Sherlock read Molly's last text with a mischievous grin on his face.

_Ohh, the game is on, Molly Hooper.…_

* * *

Hello! This is the very first time that I write for Sherlolly or something related to Sherlock. I was so nervous to publish because English is not my first language, fortunately for me, the amazing vermofftiss came to the rescue.

This is the first part of my take at what happened right after TFP and a bit more after that. Hope you enjoy this!


	2. II

**Take a Chance On Me**

**.**

**.**

* * *

At the end of Molly's shift, she cleaned the lab and the utensils she had used for the day before gathering her personal belongings and exchanging some words with the person responsible for the next shift, then left Barts to return to her flat.

She had to admit she was feeling a little nervous about meeting with Sherlock. She hadn't seen him in almost two months and after their last encounter, which was kind of dramatic, she found that it was impossible to not feel at least a little anxious.

She decided to take the Tube instead of just getting into a cab. That way she would have more time to think during her walk home from the station of what on Earth she was going to say to Sherlock when she saw him.

When Molly finally arrived to her flat, she took off her coat and hung it on the door, greeting a hungry Toby rubbing against her legs, and made her way to the kitchen to grab some food for the feline who was now meowing behind her.

"Oh, you're just happy to see me because you're hungry!" she said at the impatient cat.

"Well, yes, I'm quite peckish." The voice came from the dark sitting room, startling Molly, but she recognized him in less than a second. "But that's not the reason why I'm happy to see you."

"Oh my god, Sherlock. What are you doing here? You scared me!" She moved swiftly to turn on the lights of the room and there he was, sitting on her sofa and as handsome as ever.

_Stop it,_ she told herself.

"Hello Molly, sorry that I let myself in. I was bored and you said your shift was not over for another two hours, so I decided to spend quality time with Toby."

"Quality time, huh?" She narrowed her eyes. "You two never got along. Toby hates you and the feeling is mutual." Molly had not even finished speaking when Toby climbed into Sherlock's lap and began purring at the human petting his head.

"You traitorous cat!" she said, and burst into laughter, her eyes closed and head thrown back.

"See? We have grown quite fond of each other in the last two hours and 27 minutes."

"I see that now. Who would've thought?" She rolled her eyes.

"Well, I must mention that I brought him some treats."

Sherlock got up from his seat and Toby immediately dashed to another room. He walked up to her and wrapped her in a hug.

Sherlock Holmes was hugging her.

_Am I dreaming?_

He had never hugged her, only chaste kisses on her cheek and some occasional handshakes.

She had only received hugs from him in her dreams... _Oh, and so much more…_

"Molly, could you please stop thinking," he said against the top of her head.

"Oh, yes, sorry…." This time she returned the hug. He smelled wonderful; she could stay like this forever.

_GET. IT. TOGETHER. _She reminded herself as she broke away.

"I know a great place that's near here – well, John said it was good. We could go there and grab something to eat… if that's alright with you."

"Yeah, sure, let's go. I'm just going to change." She gestured to the outfit she had been wearing all day, which smelled of death and chemicals. To anyone else it would seem like she just wanted to get into something a little bit comfier. Sherlock nodded and Molly went into her room to change.

* * *

The place was lovely, small but cosy, and the food was delicious. Molly had always loved Mexican food; it was an experience for her. The dishes were always vibrant and colourful and had life on their own. Molly really enjoyed it, and for her it wasn't as spicy as everyone said.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today," Sherlock said, all too formally.

"Oh, don't thank me. I wanted to. That's why I agreed to it. Though I'm surprised you are eating something else than chips," she said before taking a bite of her food.

No word was said after that and they ate their respective meals in silence. This never had happened before; they always had something to talk about, from experiments they were doing at Barts to Sherlock updating her on some of his unsolved cases.

Things were getting more and more awkward. Molly started to unconsciously tap her fingers on the table.

"So… are we having tequila shots?" she asked.

"If you want, we can order a... round? Though, you have to work early tomorrow, and the, er..."

"Sherlock, I'm messing with you. I needed to clear the air; it was getting awkward." She gave a half shrug.

He stared at her and exhaled. Molly could've sworn he was nervous. He looked it.

_Why would he be nervous? He is the great Sherlock Holmes_.

"Look, Sherlock." She was going to get it all out. She just wanted to be at peace with Sherlock and return their friendship to as normal as possible. She had come to terms – well, she was trying to – that the detective was never going to feel the same way as she did and she really wanted to move on to the next stage and this was her first step.

_Are you sure that he doesn't feel anything for you? Just look at that gorgeous face and how he looks at you! _Meena's voice chided inside her head.

"I know our last meeting was not good. It was awful, actually. I was hurting so badly and I know you were in a rough patch too. I had time to think about things and I just wanted to say that I don't expect anything from you because of the words we, um, said that day. You were doing your job, saving the day, and I did my part too. I saved my life even if I didn't know it then." She gave him a weak smile. "So, let's just try to forget the disastrous events of that day. I'll be forever grateful that you tried to save my life. I really appreciate your friendship, Sherlock. I must say that you're insufferable sometimes and you need to step up your game and be a lot nicer, but I want to be friends with you, help you with cases, do experiments at the lab and all that. Let's start over, Sherlock, a clean slate."

"Well, solving crimes together sounds lovely and the lab at Barts is way better than the one I have improvised in my kitchen, but the part where we remain friends it's not what I'm looking for, Molly." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

_Oh, she was so done with Sherlock bloody Holmes._

"What…?"

"It's not what I'm looking for because… I want more than that, Molly."

_What is happening? _Molly thought to herself.

"That day… I meant it, the words. I didn't know that at the moment, but they were true. You asked me to say them like I really meant it and that's what I did. It's just that I kept telling myself that I had only done it to save you."

She was definitely dreaming. First he hugged her and now… this? She must have inhaled something in the lab by accident and now she was having some kind of strange hallucination.

And then, pain hit her. A terrible thought crossed her mind.

"Okay, whose death do I have to falsify? Is it Mycroft's, yours again? Just tell me, Sherlock. And we'll work on it, but you don't need to play with me. You know I'll help you. You don't need to do this."

"No, Molly! It's not that, why would you even think of that? Did you hear what I just told you?"

_Benefit of the doubt_, Molly thought. Sure, he may have flirted with her a couple of times to get access to the lab and some bodies, but that _was _ages ago. Things were different now, they had changed. He had changed.

"Hear me out, Molly. This is not easy for me. I've never been good at expressing what I feel." He took a deep breath. "I have feelings for you. They're not just friendly, they're beyond that. I must admit to you that I've felt like this for a while now, but as I said earlier, I kept denying it. I'm not good at these kind of involvements. I used to have such a different opinion of all the things I'm feeling right now and that's why it took me so long to finally sort through the mess."

He stared intensely at her, but she looked the other way. She felt like time had stopped. She felt dizzy. She was going to throw up. She had dreamt of this moment countless times. Sherlock Holmes, the man she had loved for so many years, admitting his feelings for her. Why wasn't she bursting out in tears of joy? She just felt… odd.

"Why didn't you say something?" she managed. "I know the last time we saw each other you were as confused as me. But you disappeared for almost two months, without a word. I asked for a time out, I know that, but I didn't want you out of my life, Sherlock! I thought that you didn't want to see me anymore."

"I was... afraid. Molly, you know that I'm well versed in thousands of subjects. This one is definitely not my forte, but I don't want to be in the dark anymore. I'm tired of fighting against all of these emotions. I want to give in. For you, Molly."

"I'm just having trouble believing this is real. I don't know how to… _feel_."

"It is real, Molly. I'm sorry it took me so long. I was worried for so many reasons that I even thought of never telling you."

"Wh-what?" She cocked her head.

"You'd be a target. If anyone wanted to hurt me, they would get to use you as my pressure point. I'd put you at risk, but still that's not the main problem. I'd be distracted from my work, I'd become less effective on cases." He was so nervous Molly swore she could hear him thinking he was losing his mind. He blurted out the words and couldn't seem to stop. "I mean, I can handle the pressure of putting you at risk, why would I care about that?" He even let out a small laugh, but immediately regretted it.

Molly huffed. _This is the prick I know._ She grabbed her coat from the back of the chair and put in on.

"Wait – no! That is not what I was trying to say. Of course my main concern is exposing you to any kind of danger."

But she wasn't listening anymore. He'd shown enough of his hand. "I'm leaving, Sherlock. I'll see you at the lab. We can continue working together, I really meant that part. But stop this, please. Quit playing with me. You know how I feel about you, and calling me a distraction? I can't handle it, Sherlock." She got up from the table, trying to look as calm as possible. She wasn't looking forward to making a scene in front of strangers in a restaurant.

"Molly, don't…" He got up from his chair and grabbed her from the wrist. She looked at him right in the eyes and he freed her instantly.

Maybe he thought that she was going to leave at that moment, but instead she got closer to him very slowly and hugged him.

"Don't you even dare following me to my flat, Sherlock Holmes. My neighbours still remember the scene you played the other night. And for the record, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

She stepped back and walked away.

* * *

Sherlock just stood there, speechless.

He was never speechless, but this was not the first time that Molly Hooper had left him that way.

He paid the bill and left. He was still not sure whether to go to Molly's flat and try to make amends – again – or just take her advice and direct himself to his newly renovated flat. He chose the latter and hailed a cab.

On his way to Baker Street, he couldn't help but text her, even knowing she was going to get angrier at him as a result.

_**Looking forward to our next date. S**_

He pressed the "send" button with a small smile.

A minute later, his phone buzzed with a new text.

_**Bugger off, Sherlock. M**_

_Well, at least she answered._

He climbed the stairs to his flat and found John sitting in his chair, cradling a mug of tea. He wondered what John was doing at Baker Street at this time of night. He was about to ask when he saw his goddaughter playing on the floor.

"Ah."

"She won't go to bed. I've tried everything and she's just not sleeping. I even brought her here hoping she would fall asleep on the way. I'm one second away from calling Molly and asking her for help." John looked tired, unlike Rosie, who looked very amused with her toys and showing no sign of sleepiness.

"Oh… I don't think that's a good idea. Maybe not right now."

"What? What did you do? You said you were going to see her today, please just tell me everything went fine."

"I was nervous!" Sherlock admitted.

"Nervous. _You _were nervous?"

"Yes, John, I was nervous! I don't think that I've ruined things for good, but I can certainly say that tonight did not go as planned."

"And what were your plans, Sherlock?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that. Unlike you, I'm not a Lothario. I may have idiotically expected Molly to throw herself into my arms once I finally told her how I really feel, but clearly, that did not happen."

"Sherlock, romance is not like in the telly, you of all people must know that. Molly was never going to do that. She may love you, but she is no fool."

"Molly thought that I was… pretending to feel something for her because I needed a big favour, like when she helped me fake my death," Sherlock said as he rubbed his temples.

"Oh, okay, that's bad."

"I know that, John! But when I convinced her that I wasn't doing such a horrible thing I... got nervous and made things worse." He painfully detailed his misstep in sharing his priorities regarding Molly.

"Sherlock, I don't know how a person so incredibly smart could've fucked up with something so simple. It's almost laughable!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, feeling like an idiot, but since he knew he wasn't one, he did something very unlike himself: he sought out advice.

"What should I do? You're my best friend, you're the one supposed to help me with romance issues! I can only think of running to her flat and throwing rocks at her window."

John frowned. He really had no idea of how relationships worked. Trash TV had ruined him.

"No, Sherlock. Leave the big romantic gestures for when you're on good terms with Molly. The best you can do right now is to go to sleep and give her space. But don't disappear like the last time."

"Well, that's not what I would have done, so I'll take your advice. You are more than welcome to sleep here tonight, since you have now achieved your goal." Sherlock scooped up and handed John a sleeping Rosie and made his way to his room.

Sherlock Holmes could make a baby fall asleep without trying but couldn't confess his feelings to Molly without getting it wrong. Life had a funny way of sneaking up on him.

In his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he thought about his eventful evening. He had to admit that he was rather worried that he had ruined things for good with Molly. _Relax,_ he repeated to himself._ You got nervous and that's why you mixed your words._

He grabbed his phone and texted Molly, one more time.

_**Good night. S**_

He waited for an answer, but none came.

Sleep claimed him. How fortunate.

* * *

John opened up his eyes to the sound of Rosie cooing. He rolled to the other side of the bed to check his phone, seeing it was already past ten in the morning. Not bad for his day off work.

He took Rosie out of the spare crib he kept at Baker Street and walked to the kitchen. Sherlock was already there, all suited up and sipping on a cuppa. He settled Rosie on the highchair that her godfather had gotten for her and went on to prepare her some breakfast.

John had really considered moving back to Baker Street. Sherlock told him that he and Rosie were more than welcome to do so, but he had his doubts. 221B was a prime location, but his house was closer to his work. Also, he really liked having a place just for him and Rosie. And maybe it was too soon, but John knew he didn't want to spend the rest of his days alone. He hoped that someday, not in the near future but someday, he'd find someone else to love and who'd love him and Rosie back.

"I'm going out," Sherlock said, interrupting John's thoughts. "Lestrade called me on a case that is barely a three but I need a distraction so I'll be back later."

Sherlock had passed the last couple days sulking, and it was starting to get annoying, even for Rosie.

"I guess you don't need me if it's barely a three, then."

"Nope, I really don't. Enjoy your free day with your daughter."

"Can you text me when you're on your way back?" John asked. "I need you to grab some stuff for Rosie."

"Can't you do that yourself?"

"You just said to enjoy my free day."

The detective narrowed his eyes. "Text me what you need." He left the flat at that, leaving John and Rosie alone.

"Rosie, I really need your help in getting your godparents together for good. Will you help me?" She just stared at him in confusion. "I'll take that as a yes." He grabbed his phone from the table and texted Molly.

_**Hi there, godmother! J**_

John sent a photo of Rosie playing on the floor with some toys that Molly had gifted her.

She answered within two minutes.

_**She's gorgeous, John! And she's getting bigger every day, I really miss her! #ProudGodmother Mx**_

_**Oh, you should put that on a t-shirt. And I'm sure she misses you too. How are you? How's work? Hope we're not distracting you J**_

_**I'm good, thanks for asking! And work has been good too. Don't worry, my shift's ending early today and I'm just sorting some paperwork at the moment. Mx**_

_**Glad to know that, we will leave you to it. Hope to see you soon J**_

He sent her another photo of Rosie and locked his phone, reading her reply of heart emojis on the notification that popped up seconds later.

John wasn't a matchmaker. He had tried setting up two friends back in Uni and it was an absolute disaster, but he was ready to give it a second try.

He spent the day playing and napping with his daughter. Mrs Hudson stopped by sometime in the afternoon to say hello to the little one and brought some lunch. During Rosie's third crash of the day, his phone buzzed with a text from Sherlock.

_**On my way to Baker St, what did you need? S**_

It was time to make his move. He scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he was looking for.

"Hello John, what's the matter?"

"Hi Molly, I'm really sorry to bother you, but can you babysit Rosie tonight at Baker Street? Sherlock called me from Scotland Yard. We just got a case, a big one. She's sleeping right now, I don't want to wake her up."

"Oh! Sure! Don't worry, I'm dying to see her. I'll be there in 20."

"Thank you so much, Molly. You're a lifesaver! See you in a bit."

He hung up and checked the five texts Sherlock had sent during the short call.

_**What did you need?**_

_**John?**_

_**Are you ignoring me?**_

_**Did you lose your phone again?**_

_**I'm getting Thai for dinner, just so you know.**_

The phone call with Molly barely lasted a minute. His impatience was spectacular.

_**Sorry. Thai is fine by me. Nappies and baby food J**_

_**Finally. Baby food? Which one? S**_

_**Maybe just bring the nappies actually. J**_

_**I'll be home in 20. S**_

John started picking up his and Rosie's things, getting ready to leave. He had tidied up a bit in the sitting room and the kitchen and changed Rosie into something warmer. The weather was getting chillier and he didn't want to risk her getting sick.

There was a knock on the door before Molly let herself in.

"Hey, Molly. Thanks for coming in such short notice." John hugged her.

"Don't worry, I'm really happy to get to spend time with her." She smiled and grabbed Rosie. He noticed how her eyes searched for signs of certain someone as she rocked her goddaughter.

"Well, let me go get her stuff."

Whilst picking up Rosie's nappy bag, John could hear the creaking of the stairs up to 221B announcing Sherlock's arrival. It was almost incredible how his plan had actually worked out perfectly. He grinned at his cleverness.

* * *

Sherlock paid the driver and got out of the cab, carrying a bag of Thai takeaway and Rosie's nappies. He entered the building and climbed the stairs up to his flat, but before opening the door, he caught a peculiar scent.

_Shampoo…_

_Molly?_

Yes, that was Molly's brand. What was she doing here? She usually called before dropping by Baker Street and he didn't receive a single call from her.

Maybe she actually wanted to see him. He smiled at the thought and opened the door, only to find her with their goddaughter in her arms.

"Hello, Molly."

"I– Sherlock, hi. I thought you were… Uhh, hello."

He placed the food and the bag of nappies on the coffee table. "You thought that I was…?"

"The case, I thought you were working on a case. John called me to babysit Rosie because you two need to work on it."

"What are you talking about, Molly? I don't have–" Sherlock narrowed his eyes and turned to look at his best friend who was just entering the sitting room with Rosie's nappy bag hanging from his shoulder, a grin planted on his face.

_This is starting to make sense_, Sherlock thought.

"You do have a case, Sherlock. And you will solve it tonight, right here in your flat," John said.

"Don't be ridiculous. Stop whatever you're doing."

Molly just stood there with Rosie in her arms. She stared at the two men, stunned.

"No, Sherlock. You stop all of this nonsense and get things right for once."

"Can either of you explain to me what's going on? Do I even need to be here? I can take Rosie with me if there's something you two need to do..." Molly said.

"No, Molly, you stay right where you are." John looked at her before turning back to the detective in front of him.

"Solve this. I can't stand another day of you sulking around the flat. Molly, do you like Thai food?"

"Yes?"

"Well, you're off to a good start." John walked towards the pathologist. "Let's make a trade." He picked up the bag of takeaway from the coffee table and held it out to Molly, accepting Rosie in return. "Enjoy your evening!" he said, walking out the door with Rosie in his arms and leaving Sherlock and Molly in the flat, puzzled.

"I must apologize for John's behaviour. I really don't know what got into him."

"Well, I can't believe he actually tried to play matchmaker, but this Thai really does smell good…."

"Don't forget that Rosie was involved too. She's as guilty as her father," Sherlock pointed out, gaining a small laugh from Molly.

"That gorgeous little face was all it took to trick me."

"And I thought you were here to see me…"

"In my defence, John told me that you were at Scotland Yard. I wasn't expecting to see you, though I did want to."

"He wasn't completely lying. I was with Lestrade earlier today. He just lied about the new case. What did you say? You wanted to see me? Why?" Sherlock approached Molly as he questioned her, until he was right in front of her, mere inches separating them. He observed Molly's breathing quicken and noticed her dilated pupils as she looked intensely back at him.

"Let's have dinner, shall we?" Molly looked the other way and made her way to the kitchen table to open the bag.

Sherlock just smiled and followed her to the kitchen, satisfied with the reaction he had received from her.

They ate in peace and he updated her on the rather dull case he had worked on earlier. Apparently, some jewellery had been mysteriously stolen, no evidence found or recorded on security cameras, every employee and ex-employee had been interviewed and nothing was found against them. It took less than a minute for Sherlock to find out that the owner had done it to cash out the insurance. The man thought himself smart, but he really wasn't. On her part, Molly talked about her latest autopsy and explained in full detail the most morbid parts, getting all of Sherlock's attention.

Sherlock was almost done with the dishes when Molly retrieved the courage she needed to address the conversation they had had the last time they had seen each other.

"Um, Sherlock. About the things you said the other night…"

"What things?"

"Sherlock."

He dried his hands with a kitchen cloth with a sigh and asked, "You're going to make me say it all over again, aren't you?"

"Well, yes. The other night didn't end on a good note and I was hoping to make things clear. Also, the fact that you were definitely nervous was almost funny but I'm quite interested in what you said before everything went south."

Sherlock walked to the sitting room, but before he sat on his chair he dragged one of the chairs from his desk and placed it in front of his, inviting Molly to sit down.

_God, this is hard,_ he thought. Having to admit his feelings to the woman sitting right in front of him, not only once but twice. Still, he realized he wasn't scared or nervous as he was before. He just needed to tell her.

Molly looked at him, encouragingly.

"I have feelings for you, Molly. I took me a while to realize it, I know that. I used to think that sentiment and romantic involvements were a waste of time. But I want to be with you, Molly. I want you to be with me and I don't want you to find another silly man and get engaged. I've found that emotion enriches me… and you make me want to be better."

As I've said before, I'm a ridiculous man, countlessly redeemed by the people who surround me, hoping that someday I'll be a good man. I probably won't be the best choice of partner. But I promise you, I'll make it up to you for everything and become the best man for you."

"Sherlock…"

"Please, Molly."

"You already are."

"Excuse me?"

"You already are, Sherlock, a good man. You've always been. You've tried to hide it, behind that cold façade, but you do care, you always have. I won't deny that you're an idiot sometimes, but just look at everything you've done. For God's sake, Sherlock, you even faked your own death to protect your friends! And think about how many people you indirectly helped after dismantling Moriarty's network."

"But will you let me be the best one for you, Molly?"

* * *

"Sherlock." She lowered her head and thought for a moment, building up the nerve to say what she truly wanted to. "_You've always been the best for me," _she whispered.

She felt exposed and relieved at the same time.

"So… take a chance on me, Molly."

He looked deeply into her eyes, waiting for an answer. She felt her cheeks getting hot.

Was she really ready? She had wanted to be with Sherlock since the first moment she saw him at Barts so many years ago, tall and handsome, making her all stuttery and awkward. Still, she couldn't help feeling scared.

"What ifs" were clouding her mind. Was she going to take whatever the man in front of her was offering? But… what was Sherlock offering in the first place? A relationship? Was he really the type for that?

What if he got bored of her? What if he ended up hurting her more? No. She wouldn't let him.

But was she going to take a leap of faith for Sherlock?

Yes, of course she was.

_This is it,_ thought Molly.

She looked at Sherlock's face and she could've sworn that he was dying of anticipation.

"Yes, Sherlock. Let's take a chance." She smiled softly, the detective's face showing relief.

"Not to brag or anything, but I knew you would say that."

"Oh, shut up. I can still change my mind!"

"No, you won't." A satisfied smile painted his face as he leaned forward very gently, making his intentions clear. Molly shivered as she saw Sherlock getting closer, she could feel his hot breath on her face, his scent making her dizzy. She hadn't even noticed that she had started to lean toward him too, the need to be closer to him properly making its appearance.

"May I?" Sherlock whispered.

"Y-yes..."

A phone chimed. Startling both of them, Sherlock straightened himself back on his chair and so did Molly.

"Sorry. Don't mind that, it's just a text."

"Oh, no. Don't worry, you can check it, I don't mind. It might be work."

Sherlock hesitated for a bit, but still took his phone from his left pocket.

_**How's everything? Have you managed to fix things finally? J**_

_Damn you, Watson_, Sherlock thought. Maybe this was payback for all the times he had interrupted him with his conquests.

_**Everything's fine. Don't text again. **__**S**_

Sherlock stuffed his phone back into his pocket. "Nothing important, it was just John looking for ways to annoy–"

He couldn't finish as Molly had already lunged towards him, closing the gap between them and silencing him with a kiss. It took Sherlock less than a second to grab her by the waist to draw her deeper into the kiss as Molly ran her fingers through his dark curls, gaining a groan from him when she tugged at his hair.

She pulled away, desperate for air. Her face flushed, she stood up after noticing she was almost straddling Sherlock, sitting there with a smug look on his face.

"I was going for a kiss definitely softer than what we just did, but I'm happy that you had something else in mind."

"Well, that was years of pent up frustration. All your fault."

"I'd be glad to pay you up, for any… inconveniences caused."

"You'd better start soon" She grinned at him and he leaned toward her, but stopped right before he reached her lips to kiss her.

"There's something I need to say first, Molly."

"Can't it wait? I really, really want to kiss you right now."

He chuckled. Impatient little Molly. _My Molly,_ Sherlock thought.

"No, it can't."

She straightened on her chair and looked at him, concern in her eyes. "What's the matter, Sherlock?"

He grabbed her hands and his face softened as he stared directly into her brown eyes. "I love you. I love you, Molly Hooper."

"I love you too, Sherlock. I always have. I love you." A smile painted her face and Sherlock could've sworn she was glowing as he leaned forward to kiss her, softly.

"You may call John now and tell him that his plan worked," Molly said with a small laugh.

"That can wait until tomorrow morning. I have other things in mind right now."

"Would you mind showing me?" A smirk appeared on Molly's face.

"Oh, not at all."

_That's how Molly found out that the "7 Times a Night in Baker Street" tabloid story fell short to reality._

* * *

And...that's it. The second and final part of this little story. I want to thank you all for taking the time to review and follow this, I really appreciate it! And of course, I'd like to thank the amazing Vermofftiss for all the help and for being the best beta ever!

I hope you enjoy this!


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